Mithrin I: Seeing You
by Geale
Summary: Legolas travels to Imladris for the first time in several years. There are rarely swift changes in the life of an elf, but this time he sees something that will change him forever. Around 70 years before the War. Aragorn/Legolas very mild slash. Revised!


**The story: **A long one-shot set in Rivendell around seventy years before the War. Legolas travels to Imladris for the first time in several years. There are rarely swift changes in the life of an elf, but this time he sees something that will change him forever. A/L, slash story, although very, very mild. AU.

**Timeline: **This takes place in the Third Age (III) 2946, five years after Bilbo is whisked away to the Lonely Mountain by Gandalf and the dwarves. In this year Aragorn is 15 and has been in Elrond's care for 13 years. He doesn't yet know of his ancestry as that is revealed to him in III 2951. (The War of the Ring begins III 3018.)

**Warnings: **This is an Aragorn/Legolas pairing. There's no explicit slash, but nonetheless, I'm hinting towards it. If you do not approve of this, you are welcome to do something completely different. Or you could stay, put away your prejudices and discover something you might like?

Also – IMPORTANT: The timeline is only here to provide us with a rough framework. It does not mean that the facts in this story are correct, such as the location of the dwarves main realms, the effect wine has on elves or the growing-places of particular flowers.

**Disclaimer: **I have a deep respect for Tolkien, but it is I and only I who have written this.

Enjoy!

**Seeing You**

**Imladris, the Hidden Valley**

**Tuilë, ****III 2946**

Spring has finally come! The warming glow of the midday sun is dancing on every newborn leaf and envelops the slender birches in a joyous embrace. Tiny star-shaped, white flowers are turning their faces to the blue skies overhead, and I can hear them giggling among themselves. The grass on either side of the road is green and when a brave breeze occasionally drifts over it, it sends its sweet fragrances swirling through the woods.

It is now several hours since I broke fast by the small, glittering stream and once more sat up on Êl to continue my journey. I feel the need to press on, despite not being in a hurry. The letter I am carrying from my father contains no grave business – he told me before I set out – but delivering it is still my task.

No, I need not hasten, now as the first glorious days of spring fill our hearts with laughter and call upon us to sing beneath the stars. Yet, I long to arrive, for it is no foul place I am riding to.

The Misty Mountains are standing tall and proud against the horizon behind me. They are surely enthralling, but my people have never gotten along with the dwarves who dwell there so I am glad to have left them for now.

I have not met another traveller for many a mile which is odd since this is one of the greater roads, used by nearly all good inhabitants of Arda. But maybe I am partial. This road leads to what I consider my second home even though I have not been there for some forty years. It is of course no long time for an elf, but I have understood that for a man, it can be a reasonable amount of time.

Of men I know not much. I speak the common tongue, naturally, but I do not think I have ever touched a human. If you were to ask my father, he would probably say that is a good thing; he claims to have seen many disappointments in his many days.

At the thought of my father, I cannot help but smile. He may come across as grumpy and irritable at times, but he really is a fine King, and he has always been kind to me.

I am making good time and soon the land begins to decline. I urge Êl on and he increases his speed. My hair flows in the wind as we draw closer to the vale that lies ahead. Laughter builds up inside and I let it out, passing on my blessings to this magnificent new world that holds every thread of promise in its hands.

When we pass by the field that precedes Imladris, we slow down and I catch my breath. I am expecting to see the place devoid of all living things other than the grass and the flowers – much because I have spent many days alone, save for Êl – but as I ride on, I spot someone standing almost in the centre of the grassland.

It is a gangly figure, dressed in elven wear and yet not seeming altogether elvish. The head is crowned by dark locks, falling no longer than to his shoulders. He – for I do recognise him as a 'he' – is holding a piece of parchment in one hand and seems to intently search the ground for something. Then he appears to give up, runs a hand through his hair and slumps down on the grass.

Puzzled as I am, I ride on. I wish to reach the end of my journey, though pleasurable it has been.

o.O.o

I am watching as Êl is being led away, when a hand lands on my shoulder. I am spun around and caught in Lord Elrond's warm embrace.

"_Mae govannen, Legolas! _How was your journey?"

"Wonderful," I smile, "but I am content to be here as well."

"You had better be!" Lord Elrond's laughter fills the courtyard. He lets me go and holds me an arm's length away. "Have you grown?"

I shake my head and still smiling, I offer a mock sigh. "I stopped growing hundreds and hundreds of years ago."

A sudden seriousness flashes over his face. It is not enough to wipe away his smile, it only tints it with a hint of sadness. "True," he nods. "You all grow up so quickly…" He pulls me into another hug. "I am glad to see you again, _ion nin_."

We walk slowly across the courtyard, catching up on recent events and relaying news.

"How is your father?"

"Oh, you know _adar_," I say, "he has been in a bad mood ever since the dwarves escaped his prison cells five years ago."

It is true, Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, will never come to accept that thirteen dwarves and one hobbit managed to break out of their captivity by climbing into wine-barrels! Among us younger elves it has become a splendid story, but my father always puts on a sour face when anyone brings it up.

Elrond chuckles at my words. "I expect so," he says. "Thranduil never was happy about that outcome. I, myself, am rather impressed by Bilbo's doings, but then it was not from my cells he organised the escape."

"But you would never have held him captive," I say. I know not much of hobbits either, but this is a tale that has been told many times, and I _do _know Elrond.

"Maybe not," he agrees, "even if I had a cell to put him in."

We walk up the stairs to the main entrance, but we do not enter. The afternoon is warm and fair and merrily greeted after the long winter. Elrond turns left and we stroll out onto the large balcony that encircles the entire house and overlooks the dale. He offers me a seat on a stone bench covered in cushions and I gratefully settle down, knowing that all the riding has wearied even _my_ muscles. He sits down on a similar bench, opposite mine, and gives another smile.

"For how long will you be staying?"

"I do not know," I confess. "For how long will you have me?"

"You are like a son to me, Legolas. My home is always open to you. Stay as long as you please."

I smile back, content. "I am in no hurry. _Adar_ – oh!" I produce the letter from my inner pocket and hand it over. "My father sent you this. Apparently it is nothing terrifying."

While Elrond reads it, I take a closer look at him. He is one of the eldest elves I know still dwelling in Middle-earth and he looks almost as young as ever. Almost. There are faint traces of worry in his face and his shoulders seem to have tensed since I last saw him. The usual peaceful air is about him, but something deep down within him disturbs it.

It has nothing to do with the letter however because it proves to contain nothing more than my father's regular complaints regarding the dwarves and their activities in the Mountains. Elrond even laughs as he reads the last lines out loud:

"_If I knew not better – considering the horrifying result of my actions five years ago – I would send my army to the Mountains to drive far away the greedy scoundrels. Alas, I am wiser now, or so I like to think, so I shall take no action, unless you would send warriors of your own, dear friend, and so join me in a stand against them. It is a lost hope, I know already, but you cannot blame me for trying!" _

Elrond winks at me and I only shake my head, smiling.

"Take good care of my son whilst he is in your care," he continues and then lifts his head again. "And the rest is the usual respectful greetings and such."

"There you have it," I chuckle, "he will never let it go."

"He will not," Elrond agrees, folding the parchment. "But at the least he is self-perceptive."

I lean back in my seat, inhaling the scents in the air and feeling the blissful touch of the sun on my face. I exhale deeply, chasing away any lingering stress from my body.

Then a movement catches my eye. On the opposite side of the balcony, many feet behind Elrond, a dark-haired figure emerges from around a corner. Undecided, it stays close to the wall, not treading any closer. I pull myself upright but that only seems to scare him off because he disappears as suddenly as he appeared.

Elrond has of course noticed my action and he spins around to look in the same direction. When he turns back, there is a slight frown on his face.

"Legolas, there is some business I have to tend to I think. Can I trust you to find your room by yourself?"

"Certainly," I assure him, "if you have not rearranged them since my last visit."

"No, not yet," he says, "but should I ever find myself in the dire need of a dungeon, your room will be the first to be sacrificed!"

I laugh with him and he gives me yet another hug. "I am glad to see you in Imladris again, _ion nin_."

o.O.o

I am not known for staying inside when the weather is fine. To be honest, I am not known for doing so even when the weather is considered dreadful. Therefore, I am surprising even myself when I find I am having some difficulties leaving my window. It overlooks the gardens so the view is undeniably beautiful, but for once it is not nature that mesmerises me… at least not _that _part of nature.

He is very young, I see that now. For it must be the same being who I saw first in the field and later on the balcony. And despite his sometimes graceful movements, he is not elven, and there is only one other race he could belong to then: he is human.

He is currently on his hands and knees, examining the various herbs growing in one of the flower beds. Now and then he reaches for a small silvery knife and cuts a few leaves from a plant before dropping them in various pouches spread around him on the grass. At times, he sits back on his heels and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. There are stains of soil on his cheeks and he would seem a sorry figure if it were not for the light is in his eyes.

Grey, shining eyes. Clear as the waters of the River Running. I am drawn to them, stronger than I have been drawn to anything else. I imagine that if I could collect a portion of every rain cloud that passed over Mirkwood last autumn, I might have enough shades of grey to draw an image of his eyes.

Of your eyes.

_Man le?_

"Who are you?"

My own whisper stretches out into the room and drifts about me for a long time after I close my mouth. I stand perfectly still at the window as the sun slants towards the western horizon and paints the sky with a golden blaze.

He too, appears to have noticed the approaching dusk because he collects the pouches and his knife and scrambles to his feet. I cannot help but smile as his long legs unfold stiffly and his lanky frame sways as he fights to regain his full balance; he is all arms and legs and dark hair. Holding his herbal treasure with one hand, pressing some of the pouches against his chest, he uses his other hand to brush away some of the dirt from his tunic. It is a fruitless attempt from beginning to end and he understands so himself. Surrendering to his state, he bites his lip and leaves the garden hesitantly – walks out of my line of vision.

I leave my room, moving now as quick as I can in the direction I believe he might take. I slip downstairs and make for one of the smaller doors leading straight out into the gardens. Halfway there I stop short as voices come floating from around a corner.

"No."

"Then you shall continue tomorrow. Leave these with the healers and wash up before dinner."

Lord Elrond's sudden laughter reaches my ears.

"You do draw every ounce of soil to you…" he says in a voice that carries warmth and wonder.

A low, undistinguishable reply is heard in response.

"There now, I will see you in a little while."

"Yes, _adar_."

As the sound of hurried footsteps gradually dies down, I stand as if frozen in time and place.

_Adar_.

Elrond's sons are Elladan and Elrohir, and I am sure I have not been away long enough to forget the sound of their voices – especially as elves seldom forget anything at all. Also, I realise with a small grin, it is highly unlikely they would walk around unwashed for more than two minutes together.

I am still standing in the hallway when Elrond approaches me, spreading his arms wide.

"Legolas?" he says in a surprised tone, "I know I said you are welcome in my house whenever you like, but surely there must be more enticing things to do than standing here?" He smiles and raises his eyebrows. "Are you not the son of Thranduil, known for venturing outside even when you are wanted indoors?"

I blush at his words, for I will never forget the day he relays to.

"Could be," I nod.

"Well then! What are you doing here?"

He walks up to me and together we turn back towards the main entrance and the larger halls and rooms.

"Exploring," I say, knowing the answer is vague but it is not too far from the truth either.

He casts me a sideway glance but presses me no further. Instead he changes the subject.

"You will not be bored here? Elladan and Elrohir are in the east for yet another four or five weeks and I have much business to attend to," he ends with a small sigh I am not sure I am supposed to have heard.

I shake my head. "I shall be fine," I assure him. "Many days I have spent here before, and I _do _have other friends around."

He matches my smile with one of his own. "Then I am content," he says as we pass by the Hall of Fire and continue on, steering towards the dining hall.

"There is someone I would like you to meet."

My eyes shoot up to his face, but I can read nothing in his expression and he says no more.

In the dining hall a small fire is lit and its flickering flames match those of the candles on the table, set for four. The room is empty save for one person.

"Glorfindel!"

He catches me in a breath-shattering hug. "_Tithen pen!_ Too long has it been since you were seen in Elrond's halls!"

"Glorfindel, put him down before he chokes," Elrond laughs and I am let go reluctantly.

"You are not so little anymore are you?" Glorfindel inspects me closely and across his face passes the same strange look as did on Elrond's earlier.

"He stopped growing hundreds and hundreds of years ago." The Lord of Imladris echoes my earlier words with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I suppose so," Glorfindel says, the fleeting look of sadness completely erased from his features. "Come Legolas, tell me all about that grouchy father of yours! How is he doing?"

We sit down at the table, Elrond at the short side and Glorfindel and I beside each other. We are served a sparkling wine that holds the same shade as a pale winter dawn. Sporadically, Elrond's eyes stray to the open door but are immediately pulled back as they catch nothing out of the ordinary there.

I try not to follow them and instead I tell Glorfindel most of what has happened in Mirkwood during the past years. He listens attentively, laughing merrily when I recount how my father still mutters bitterly over the disappointing flight from the prison by Thorin's company.

We have already begun eating when something stirs in the doorway. All three of us look up to see, what I suspect are three different sights.

I am distantly aware of Lord Elrond's voice calling out to the young man who is waiting uneasily, almost outside the room. I hear Glorfindel heave a sigh, but I, I can only stare.

He walks into the dining hall, his arms stiff by his sides as if he wants to draw them around himself but refrains from it. Pulling out the chair opposite Glorfindel, he sits down carefully, throwing no glances around the table. He has washed and his dark tresses fall around his face in soft waves. His eyelashes share the same colour.

"Legolas." Elrond's voice pierces my ponderings and I blink as if having stepped out into a blinding sunlight.

"This is my foster son," he says, looking at the young man expectantly. "And this, _ion_, is Legolas son of Thranduil." He catches my eye. "Legolas, meet Estel.

He looks up and slowly fixes those eyes on my face. Heaviness settles on my chest and I must open my mouth to breathe. My chair and the floor beneath it cease to exist and I am floating free in a haze, only held by two grey, shining discs of light. I am carried to the ends of Eä and back, tenderly set down amidst the sinking sun's golden rays.

But no longer am I spellbound by gold, for now I have seen silver.

It is Glorfindel who breaks through the mist surrounding me.

"We were almost about to start looking for you, Estel," he announces in a voice meant to be firm. "Personally, I was beginning to think you had fallen into a ditch."

A warm colour spreads across his cheeks at the ancient elf's words, and he lets his eyes fall to the table. I am released.

"Do not tease him, Glorfindel," Elrond says, sending his friend an anxious glance and placing a hand on the youngling's arm. "We were worried about you, that is what he means."

It does not help, I know that. Seeing as I was a lively elfling, I was forced to listen to numerous reprimands from various members of my father's court and no matter which words were used, they never made me comfortable.

I smile encouragingly, wishing him to sense it. As it is, at least it is noticed by someone.

"Oh, no Legolas!" Glorfindel raises a hand in a threatening gesture. "There will be no smiling like that! We do not need our already… creative Estel here figuring out some other crazy project to dive into heedlessly."

My smile grows even broader upon hearing this. I am not sure why, but I am pleased to hear that the dark-haired human before me is not always as timid as he seems right now.

Lord Elrond withdraws his hand and pushes the tray of roasted vegetables closer to his foster son's plate. The young man helps himself to a generous portion which he digs into straight away. A little taken aback, I marvel at the speed at which he devours the food. Now that he is fully concentrated on his eating and moving around a bit more, I perceive energy flowing from him in more ways than one – not only from his eyes.

Forcing myself to return to my own eating, I pick up a piece of bread. Gradually, a congenial atmosphere settles around us.

After a while, Glorfindel sits back in his chair and lifts his wineglass. "So," he says, taking a sip, "tell us of your recent adventures, Legolas. There are bound to be some you have not mentioned." There is a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Ah, yes," Elrond nods, "your father sends me word of you regularly, but often he leaves out the details, only mentioning he wished you were more of an indoors sort of elf."

Now it is my turn to feel my cheeks growing warm. "I do not know what you mean," I say shaking my head, refusing to acknowledge anything.

Glorfindel's laugh rings out in the dining hall and causes the young man to abandon his second helping and look up.

_To those eyes I would acknowledge everything._

"You will not fool us so easily!" the elf-lord states. Then he turns to Elrond's foster son. "This, Estel, is the elf who fell into a bog when he was supposed to be copying documents in the library," he says while grinning devilishly at me.

"The elf who stumbled across some particularly fascinating stones and just _had _to study them for hours before he could return home. By that time, Thranduil was torn to pieces with worry and no matter how pretty Legolas told everyone the stones were, we never saw their beauty," Elrond counters. "I was there," he adds, explaining his choice of word.

"The elf who fell from two horses in one day!" Glorfindel is still laughing.

Wide grey eyes turn to me. I blush even further, desperately wishing I was as old and revered as Elrond, or even my father.

"Two horses," the Lord of Imladris muses. "It is true. I do not think anyone actually believed an elf could fall from a horse, let alone two, before Legolas proved it so."

"In one day!" Glorfindel repeats happily.

"Our opinions differed," I defend myself, colour scorching my face.

"I would say," Elrond teases me.

I am ready to sink through the floor and disappear forever when I see it.

His smile.

A small vibration in the middle of his lower lip grows in strength and creates the sweetest smile I have ever been offered. The light in his eyes steeps it in mischief and I know that I would fall into every bog I could find, if I only had him by my side.

"That does it, my young ones," Elrond declares, but not without a trace of mirth in his voice. "Glorfindel, I am afraid we have said too much."

His foster son turns away and his smile fades, but not entirely. And during the rest of our evening meal I imagine I sense his gaze cautiously sliding across my form. I dare not look up to confirm it; I have lost myself to a great void of endless singing.

o.O.o

_The days pass by in a glorious dance of budding flowers and rising sap. As we approach May Day the weather grows warmer and the humming of the spring breeze increases. The leafy meadows deepen their shade but the joyful feeling of beginning stays with us. _

_Elladan and Elrohir returned from their eastbound journey four weeks after my arrival here. Claiming they had done their duty to their father and deserved a respite, they brought me with them on an excursion which took me away from Imladris for a fortnight. Elrond was pleased to see us go as he has been battling a bad conscience ever since I arrived, regularly asking me to forgive him for the large amount of time he spends in his study or in the library. _

_There is nothing to forgive and I tell him so every time. I worry though, because his features are often drawn and he speaks less than he used to._

_When I returned with the twins I had laughed much, climbed many a hill and swam in many a river. Yet, for all the beauty of these lands, there was something our journey could not give me. _

_You._

_Do you know that you have become 'you'? You are no longer 'he'. _

_Your brothers spoke of you. They care for you – more than you know, I think – but as most brothers, they like to taunt and tease. They told me you are studying the art of healing, and I understood then all your days spent among the herbs, and the hours you devote to the woods and fields. _

_They said you are fifteen years old. Fifteen! How can I even begin to understand that? For how long does a sunrise last? How many sunrises make up the sum of your years? _

_I will not count how many times I have turned fifteen._

_I asked about your human family but they said they know naught of it. However, they did say that mud sticks to you like a soul mate. I never told them that I see how you dislike showing yourself before you have washed. How your expressive eyes take in all that is elven, and how hard you try to copy it. _

_Do you know that you are beautiful?_

_It is night. The stars pierce the dark velvet skies. The festival of May Day will be here in only three days and then I will be leaving. _

_I close my eyes._

o.O.o

The trees are adorned with small lanterns, gleaming softly in the failing light of early evening. White ribbons are tied around several branches and they sway quietly in the lazy breeze that sifts through the gardens. Long tables have been placed alongside a row of bushes and they are laden with cakes and dried and preserved fruit from last year's harvest. Sparkling wine fills the glasses and singing fills the air. Later on there will be dancing.

I mean to lose myself among dear friends, laugh with them, and try hard not to search for you. My eyes betray me. They flee my friends' faces and my heart follows. But you are nowhere to be seen.

I feel strangely empty as I excuse myself from yet another conversation. Weaving in and out of the crowd, I make for the low hazel-trees grouped together in a corner of the yard. Being an elf of the Woodland Realm I can easily blend with the leaves and branches for a while until I have figured out what is happening to me.

The trees welcome me and generously they offer some of their strength and stability. I concentrate on my breathing.

Do you know my breathing has not been the same since I met your gaze in the dining hall?

The waxing moon appears above the trees and the first stars show in the darkening sky. Across the grass from where I am standing, the first hands join to create the circle that soon will initiate the dancing. Elrond is speaking with Glorfindel and a few other elves not far away. A smile is in the face of the Lord and for once he looks wholly at ease.

Two familiar voices suddenly reach me. I thank the hazel-trees for offering me this safe haven and step out from behind their leaves.

"_Legolas! Merethor Veren!" _Elladan calls when he sees me.

Elrohir rolls his eyes and nods discreetly at the wine in his brother's glass.

"Joyous Feast Day!" I return the greeting, laughing. "Where have you been?"

"We had some things to take care of first," Elrohir tells me. "Such as a younger brother to torment."

A wide grin accompanies his words and Elladan nods vigorously.

"Estel," I ask as sparks rush through me.

"The only other brother I know of," Elladan confirms. "And he is beside himself at the moment!" he adds happily.

"What have you done to him?" My voice sounds casual enough and I even manage to add a hint of glee.

"Nothing horrid," Elrohir says, holding up his hands as if defending himself, "we only stirred him up slightly. Apparently _adar _has asked Estel to find a herb of some sorts for him by tomorrow morning but our dear brother has had no luck yet. He is poring over books and documents at present, desperately trying to figure out where to search! He takes these things very seriously." He shakes his head disbelievingly.

"And how did you upset him?" I ask. "And which herb?"

"Oh, we only pointed out that with his current speed he will miss the whole celebration and everyone will be asleep by the time he has finished," Elladan informs me. "He looked particularly stressed when I mentioned that last part," he adds thoughtfully, but still looking quite content with himself.

The force with which my heart goes out to you surprises me as much as it no doubt would anyone else.

"As for the herb, I do not know," he finishes, shrugging.

"Do not look so troubled, Legolas!" Elrohir suddenly cries out and I understand my façade has fallen. "He will be fine. After all, we are only doing our duty as brothers here. I am sure you would do the same if a tiny, muddy human with unruly hair were adopted by your father."

He shakes his head and puts on a miserable look. Yet I perceive the kindness in his voice, and I can easily see him defending you against anyone who would do you harm. For that I am glad.

"Well, speaking of humans…" Elladan points to where Elrond is standing beside the tables.

And there, speaking to him, and dressed in a long snow-white tunic, there you are.

"I am impressed," says Elladan, "maybe there is hope for young Estel after all." He winks at me and then slaps his brother's back encouragingly. "Now, did we not have some other business to tend to as well?"

"We certainly do! Legolas, will you join us – and those pretty ladies over there?" Elrohir nods towards a group of female elves sitting on the grass, binding wreaths of yellow flowers.

I shake my head, making sure I carry an easy smile. "No, I will leave you to your quest. Be brave and good luck!"

I am flashed two almost identical, brilliant smiles before I am once again standing by myself beside the hazel-trees. The dancing is underway and hands join all around me. I briefly wonder what kinds of commitments are being made underneath the stars tonight. Drawing a deep breath, I cross the lawn and approach the Lord of Imladris and you.

Elrond greets me with a warm smile but it is only when he speaks that you look up and I feel my heart skip a beat.

"_Merethor Veren, Legolas! _Is all well?"

"All is well," I smile, keeping my eyes on your father. "This is a beautiful ending to my stay here."

You shift where you are standing.

"I shall be sorry to see you go," Elrond sighs. "Wait not another forty years before returning."

How could I, when you are here?

"If my father can spare me, I would love to come hither soon again."

I feel now your eyes roaming over me and the blood runs a little faster in my veins.

"Good," Elrond nods. "At least one of you younglings are happy then."

At my frown, he hurries to explain. "I need Elladan and Elrohir to ride out once more and they would much rather stay in Imladris. As for Estel here, I am pressing him hard in his studies." He looks at you and you let your eyes fall to the ground. "I need him to find some _athelas_ for me by tomorrow."

I understand now your worry if you have not yet gathered the herb your father asks for. _Athelas _is not easy to find as it is grows close to the ground and prefers to hide in the moss. Apparently you have not succeeded because you are almost squirming before his gaze.

"It is a useful herb," I say, "albeit not the most beautiful."

Lord Elrond lets out a low laugh. "We all know you prefer the _niphredil_. It is a rare flower in these woods, unfortunately."

"It makes it even more stunning," I say without thinking. Involuntarily, my eyes stray to you and you lift your head.

I feel myself dissolving.

If I knew the meaning of the light in your face I would never ask anything else of this world.

_Is it possible for a heart to encompass all of the starry heavens above?_

From far away, Elrond's answer reaches me. "True," he says, and the word is spoken slowly, softly and pensively.

I reach out for my fleeing senses. I see your eyes leaving my own and I fall back into my own body. There is a look on your father's face that I cannot interpret, but it is kind.

Inclining his head to me, he places a hand on your shoulder and steers you towards a pair of elves I do not know.

You are still at your father's side when I decide to leave for my room. But before I enter the house, I slip into the woods, trace the ground and finally find what I am looking for.

I place the _athelas _on your pillow.

o.O.o

The dawn was bright and left drops of glistening dew on the grass. It still wets my boots as I cross the lawn and take the long way to the stables. Êl is waiting for me, sad to leave but eager to stretch his legs and feel the rushing wind about him. I have been given parcels said to contain enough food to last me all the way home. Absentmindedly, I store them away safely.

In the courtyard Elrond is waiting for me looking very much like my father when he sees me leaving, realising all over again I am full-grown and independent. He catches me in an affectionate embrace.

"_Tithen pen," _he sighs. "May the Valar be with you."

_No i Melain na le._

"And with you."

Looking over his shoulder, I search for you but you are not here. I know so well you have no reason to be, and yet I cannot fight the sting of disappointment piercing my chest.

To Glorfindel and your brothers I bid farewell last night, knowing they would sleep long this morning after the festival. To you I did not speak and you I miss already.

"Be careful." Elrond releases me and tries a stern glance as I sit up on Êl. "No falling off."

"Not today," I wink at him and smile but the sorrowful feeling remains.

We bid our final farewells and I promise to send word as soon as I have reached my home in Mirkwood. As I leave Imladris behind, the warming sun climbs the sky and shines down upon the Lord and his valley-dwelling.

I ride for hours without resting. The late spring has turned into early summer but I do not see the glorious wonders of nature. Perhaps the flowers turn their faces to the sky and perhaps the grass is waving in the breeze, I do not know.

It is only when I finally sit down against a large oak and take out my food parcels and discover the pale, blooming _niphredil _carefully tucked inside that I feel my heart beating again.

I continue my journey a little while later, holding the flower in my hand, trying to name this new feeling growing within.

**Fin**

**You're welcome to review - it always makes me so happy.**

**Translations (all words/phrases are in Sindarin):**

Êl – star

Arda – the World

Eä – the Universe

_mae govannen – _well met

_ion nin_ – my son

_adar_ – father

_tithen pen – _little one

_man le?_ – who are you?

_Merethor Veren_ – Joyous Feast Day

_No i Melain na le_ – May the Valar be with you

The herb/flower: _Athelas_ is a healing herb brought to Middle-earth by the Númenóreans, also known as Kingsfoil. _Niphredil_, snow drop flower mentioned in FOTR as growing in Lórien. I imported it to Rivendell!


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